


Bridge the Distance (or Kiss and Make Up)

by boobooboo888



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boobooboo888/pseuds/boobooboo888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was you," Lizzie said, her voice low. She looked up from her phone and stared at him. "It was <em>you</em>?"</p><p>He stared at her warily. "Yes," he said finally. "Yes, I--with help from Fitz and Gigi--found George Wickham, and we stopped the site."</p><p>"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bridge the Distance (or Kiss and Make Up)

**Author's Note:**

> Canon through Ep. 90.

"William, this situation has gotten out of control."

William Darcy glanced up from his laptop to look at his sister. He waited politely for her to explain what was so out of control about an utterly calm breakfast of whole wheat toast, Earl Grey tea, and the New York Times. "I beg your pardon?"

"You need to talk to Lizzie."

He shook his head slightly. "What makes you so sure that's a good idea?"

"Trust me, William, she misses you, and I know you miss her. Just go see her, talk to her." When he looked unconvinced she insisted, "You need to go. And not just because you're driving me crazy."

He smirked at her. "I'll think about it."

~~~

"Darcy." _Darcy._ On her doorstep. At 3 o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon. "What're you--are you okay?"

He felt sick. Did he look sick? Why did he think this was a good idea? How had Gigi so easily persuaded him?

 _Be direct._ "I wanted to see you." Good. Honesty.

"Okay." Her eyes were wide with surprise. "Hi." She shut the door behind her and joined him on the front porch.

"Are you--your family--you are all well?"

A small smile formed on her lips. "Actually, we're all doing really well, or getting there." Her voice was low and warm, as though she were letting him in on a secret. His heart shivered a little. "The website--George's website. It's gone."

He hesitated a moment. "That's wonderful," he said.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed. She gave him a funny look, on the edge of saying something further, and then thought better of it. "Never mind." He quirked an eyebrow in question. "I just. It's stupid. I thought, maybe…"

"You thought…" he prompted kindly, and she smiled begrudgingly.

"Honestly it seemed like something you might do." At his expression, she hastened to clarify, "Or someone like you, I mean, with connections and resources and--a staff." She trailed off, frowning at him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He stared at her and couldn't think of a thing to say.

~~~

_Meanwhile, in the kitchen..._

"How do you think it's going?"

"How should I know? I can't hear anything."

"If we get any closer she'll see us."

"Well, if you don't quiet down, she won't have to see us, she'll hear us."

"What are you two doing?" Charlotte and Lydia whirled around to face Jane guiltily. "Nothing," they said quickly.

"Is that Darcy?" Jane exclaimed loudly, staring through the window at Lizzie and her erstwhile suitor.

"Shh!" They pulled Jane into the kitchen and shut the pocket door, leaving a tiny crack for eavesdropping.

"What is he doing here?" she hissed. They were huddled on the floor together beneath the bay window.

"We don't know!" Charlotte gasped. "They've been out there making awkward conversation for five whole minutes, but we can't hear anything. Do you think he's here asking her out again?"

"I have no idea," Jane said honestly, her eyes wide. "Lydia, what's wrong?"

Lydia looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm not supposed to say anything."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "About what?"

Lydia pressed her lips together and stared intensely at the window. "He made me promise not to tell her," she said slowly.

"Tell her what?" Jane insisted.

"Oh my gosh," Charlotte said suddenly. "Lizzie was right, it _was_ Darcy." Lydia's eyes widened quickly as the secret spiraled into the open. Jane looked back and forth between them frantically. "Darcy took the site down. It was Darcy."

"Oh Lydia, is that true?" Jane's mouth fell open as she turned to her younger sister. Lydia nodded quickly in confirmation, averting her eyes and inhaling sharply. "I can't believe it…" He expression was astonishment mixed with admiration. Then, "Lizzie doesn't know. Oh my gosh."

"What do we do?" Lydia asked desperately.

"You have to tell her!" Charlotte burst impatiently. "She's out there and has no idea, and he probably thinks she knows and is wondering why she hasn't said anything yet."

"He doesn't think she knows, he asked me not to tell her," Lydia reminded them. There was a short silence as the other two stared at her. "I did give him my word, you guys," she said, slightly irritated.

"Okay, well, even if he doesn't want her to know, shouldn't she? I mean, look at him." They all stared out the window. "He looks so uncomfortable, and he obviously still likes her." It was decided. "You have to tell her, Lydia."

"What, _now_?" No one had an answer. "I know!" Lydia reached for her phone.

"You can't call her!" Charlotte exclaimed in alarm.

"Duh! I'm not. I'm sending a text. _Dear Lizzie_ ," she narrated, tapping out the message before Jane or Charlotte could stop her. " _It was Darcy. He's our knight in a pretentious bowtie. Time to get some mancake action. Love, Lydia._ " Sent. 

~~~

"It was you," Lizzie said, her voice low. She looked up from her phone and stared at him. "It was _you_?"

He stared at her warily. "Yes," he said finally. "Yes, I--with help from Fitz and Gigi--found George Wickham, and we stopped the site."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded.

"I…I didn't…" He gaped at her. He had no words. _Why couldn't he answer her?_ This wasn't how he thought this was going to go.

"And why didn't you call me?" she continued, as though he had not sputtered. "You didn't call or text or--or anything. After everything, after all of it, why didn't you call?" He heard the hurt in her voice. She had wanted to hear from him. Now was not the moment to dwell on it.

"I was giving you space," he said stiffly.

"I didn't ask for space," she hissed through her teeth.

"You left Pemberley," he said tightly. He struggled to keep his composure. He worried his emotions might be getting the best of him.

"You bought me a plane ticket," she shot back, furious. The list of things she owed him for just kept getting longer, apparently.

"I felt it was important for you to be home with your family." A small part of her brain pinged at the use of the word 'felt' but the rest of her was focused on yelling at him. It felt so good to yell again. She had been so cooped up, so careful, so quiet for weeks.

"Yeah, to deal with a crisis that apparently you were busy solving on your own."

"Well, I'm sorry," he huffed through gritted teeth. "I thought I was helping." Would they ever have a pleasant conversation again?

"Well, you should have told me!" she said again, her voice raising.

"I didn't want you to know I had interfered!" he burst in exasperation. _I can't believe I drove four hours to have her yell at me again_ , he thought.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have interfered," she snapped, flushing hotly and balling her hands into fists.

"So you would have preferred if I had done nothing." He was incredulous. Of all possible reactions, he had certainly not expected this. He had thought he had been doing the right thing, stepping in to clean up Wickham's latest disaster. Then again, he had been wrong before, especially where the Bennets were concerned. Frequently, monumentally, spectacularly wrong.

"That's not what I'm saying." She glared at him. _Was he even listening?_

"That's exactly what you're saying." He glared back. _This is insane._

"What do you want me to say, Darcy? That I'm _happy_? That I'm _grateful_? That without you we--that we needed you?" His ears pricked at the catch in her voice. Her anger was losing steam. "That we couldn't do it on our own? We couldn't save ourselves?" The heat in her voice was rapidly dissipating, giving way to desperation, hysteria. "Do you want to hear how hard we tried to fix this, me, my dad, Charlotte, and how we all failed? How powerless we all were? Is that what you want?"

" _No_ ," he gasped, horrified and frozen in place. He longed for those precious moments, mere seconds earlier, where she had been cursing him out; this weak, defeated Lizzie Bennet was much worse.

"Do you want to hear how no matter how hard I tried, I still failed my baby sister, just like every other time it mattered most? I couldn't help her."

"You didn't fail her," he interrupted her. "You were there for her when she needed you, that's what sisters are for."

"No, no," she shook her head fiercely. "It's not the same, and you know it. I could never have done what you did. I don't have the power, or the resources. And I never will. There's no way to repay you, and why would you even want to help us? Because you feel bad for us? You pity us?"

"No! No. Of course not."

"Then _why_?" There was something wild about her, unleashed and unhappy and terrifying. Her misery wrenched at his heart, reaching to the place inside of him where he kept the same regrets, the same failures, the same desperation. He spoke without thinking.

" _Because I'm still in love with you._ " She stared at him, face flushed and eyes shining. "I'm still in love with you," he said more gently, "and I couldn't stand to watch your family be torn apart the way mine had been. That's why I did it."

She stepped slowly towards him, refusing to look away. When she stood before him, she dropped her gaze to look at his hands. "You still love me," she repeated softly. It was not a question, not quite a statement; it was a realization, it was amazement, it was wonder, and hope.

"Very much," he whispered. His heart soared as she reached for his hands, and laced their fingers together, and inhaled deeply, and looked up, and smiled only for him. "How much?" she teased quietly. He smiled, brought a hand up to run through her hair and graze her cheek. "May I?" he asked softly.

"I thought you'd never ask." He kissed her sweetly, and in that moment he didn't think about the mistakes they had both made, or the harsh things they had said to each other, or the fact that anyone could see them kissing in the front yard in the middle of the day. (If either had turned towards the house they would have seen three girls jumping and hugging in the bay window of the kitchen.) He thought about San Francisco, and second chances, and Ghirardelli chocolate, and real smiles, and strawberry shampoo.

She sighed and rested her forehead on his. "I've missed you," she told him earnestly.

"I know," he said, smiling. "Gigi told me."

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This is not necessarily how I want the Lydia/Lizzie conversation to go, nor how I think it will actually happen. This seemed to fit for this story.


End file.
